Comb Keeper

I recover honey samples from the bright-eyed bees

who hug their hives and kiss the cells with floral lips.

The keeper of the combs will pick scents –

infused with lavender, sage, nutmeg


Sweet, but not impure

Sticky, but not messy

Golden, rich and all of the above.

The keeper of the combs weds himself

to the bees.

He won’t ever lift the veil

until the day is over and the sun drips around the planet

veiling and unveiling dusk.Wallpapers 1366x768 (1)


Pale Wind 

Once, the fish swam in the night sky –
a galaxy inside her belly.

She bore stars and pushed out tears, recalling

The angry cycle of mourning the living.

I had the chance to talk with her,

a chance to travel around her galaxy.

I saw the cycle churning,

filling and unfilling her fists,

palms milk white.

I felt the pain safely escape away

from her memory, from the dark house.

Although she lost the tears,

the memory of it twinkles.

Dead and alive in her sky.

Astronomers attach no name to that time,

That spiral pattern.

That place ejected from her insides.

I looked at the fish finding his way in the night.

He broke out and fell

into a motion you’ll remember as no accident.

You felt it coming. The pale wind

reaching for him.